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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926494">family; the definition of</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavovitta/pseuds/flavovitta'>flavovitta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A3! (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Found Family, Gen, Growing Up, Mentions of underaged drinking, Wholesome, birthday fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:42:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926494</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flavovitta/pseuds/flavovitta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He adds to his personal dictionary with every passing day.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>90</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>family; the definition of</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Just really felt happy about Sakuya's birthday and got inspired to slap a one-shot together</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <strong>
    <span class="s1"> <em>From the desk of Sakuya Sakuma</em></span>
  </strong>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Dear Miyamoto-sensei,</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Hello! How are you?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> It might be some time before I’m actually able to mail this letter to you, since you’ve quit teaching and I can no longer find your name on the school’s online directory. But that’s alright! I hope I can send this out to you eventually, and if not, it’s just a memory I’ll be keeping close by.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> There’s a reason for why I’m writing to you out of the blue after all this time, I promise. </em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Back in the second grade, you assigned us a project on the meaning of family. I’m not sure if you remember, but it was the worst assignment I’d submitted that year and even you wrote that it was disappointingly lazy in red pen. I didn’t realize how much I regretted it  but recently, I’ve turned twenty years old and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’ve decided to finally contact you again and re-do the assignment, although it is very, very late.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"><em> As I see it, the definition of family is: a group of people who choose to stay together</em>.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya caught sight of a blonde man walking a few feet in front of him and picked up his pace. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Itaru!” he called, waving his arm through the chilly January air. “Hey! Hi!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Itaru glanced over his shoulders and stuck two fingers up in a small salute. “Yo. Did you finish up work too?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just got off the bus back, yeah. Do you want to walk back to the dorm together?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sometimes, on these rare occasions when they caught each other, they walked back in complete quiet. Today, however, Itaru broke the lull fast. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your birthday’s coming up. Is there anywhere you want to go out to dinner? Chikage and I’d foot the bill.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I wanna have it at the dorms this year! Omi said he’d make a lot of different types of spaghetti and I’m really excited to see what he’s got planned.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Oh, God. If Fushimi went a little bit off the rails and made enough to open a catering company, Sakyo would have heads rolling. No matter how much they’d budgeted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’d make for a fun memory at least,” Itaru muttered, rolling his eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s what I’m hoping for.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Itaru side-eyed the boy walking beside him and raised his brow. The question was prompted. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t have a lot of memories, if I’m being honest with you,” Sakuya admitted with a breathy laugh. He gently tugged Banri’s scarf a little tighter around his neck to keep the chill away. “A <em>lot</em> between, like, childhood and late high school is a blur. And I don’t think I was really in a healthy mindset back then.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Itaru snorted as he went back to gazing off into the horizon. Wasn’t that something he could relate a bit too hard to. Hell, even his own recollection of the past was comprised entirely of chapter-like hyperfixations on games and whatever was tangent to that. His sister’s wedding was around the time he was grinding FFVII. His graduation? Nuzlocke Pokémon. Just ADHD things, Reddit gold, KomodoHype. Maybe Sakuya had ADHD too. He glanced at the boy again, just once, and then looked away. Yeah, it wasn’t a far stretch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So it’s nice to be making real memories again,” Sakuya finished, smiling into his scarf. “Like, even this. It’s nice to walk back home with a friend while it’s cold. This is one of those things I’ll be able to look back on and be grateful I just got to experience it." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Friend,” Itaru echoed, musing over the word. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, come on, Itaru, we’re friends at this point. Even you would have to admit that.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re getting cheeky. What happened to the seventeen year old brat that looked at me like I was the coolest guy in existence? You would’ve been too nervous to call me a friend then." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was never a brat, come on.” Sakuya’s nose wrinkled. “And I still think you’re cool, but… there’s only so many years of watching you rage-quit and throw tantrums over speedruns one can watch.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Touché, Sakuma. Touché.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ouch, but wasn’t that a bit of a hit to his pride. Itaru scowled as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. Maybe this was really what it was like when the baby bird flew off. Sakuya wouldn’t be moving out of the dorms any time soon but he certainly wasn’t going to keep on being the tiny little chick following him around. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was nice having a little brother around while I did,” Itaru chuckled with a bite of sarcasm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya stopped walking. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His eyes went wide and sparkling, ears suddenly tinged redder than warranted by the cold. The mitten-swaddled hand came up to tug Banri’s scarf down. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “R-Really?” Sakuya stammered. “You thought I was like a little brother?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Itaru suddenly felt like he’d entered an overly-valued cut scene by sheer RNG. “…Yeah?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya grinned, suddenly nothing but rosy cheeks and squinted eyes. “I always thought you were like a big brother figure to me too. Huh. That’s nice to know.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fuck, this was getting too sappy. Itaru refused to be at the age where everything made him sentimental and make him want to scroll through Pinterest for a couple of hours. He still had a few years of emotional numbness left in him yet. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would not surprise me one bit if you end up leaving a trail of broken hearts in your path just by walking down a street,” Itaru said, shaking his head. “You’re gonna end up being a real Citron in a couple of years, Sakuya.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Citron once made a woman cry just because he was so good-looking. I saw it happen with my own eyes, it was a few months ago when we were shopping for groceries.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… don’t doubt that for even a second.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Sometimes, you’re lucky enough to be born into the perfect family. And sometimes, you have to really go out of your way to find it instead.</em> </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> My family was something I had to grow into. Like a shoe that was a couple of sizes too big at first but is now my favorite, most comfortable pair.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat another bite of pasta for the next month,” Sakuya wheezed as he tried to rub the aching tension away. Half of the theatre was still in the kitchen, trying to shove the leftovers into buffet-sized tins. Omi had, as expected, gone a little overboard. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So no cake?” the Director teased him as she started slicing into the double-sheeted strawberry tower of pink marshmallow fluff and confectionary. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…I do want cake.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thought so.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She cut a slice for Sakuya and then continued to carve a much bigger portion for Juza, who had barely managed to keep his hands to himself and not swipe at frosting clumps throughout the dinner.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yuki suddenly came in next, heels clicking on the newly renovated hardwood floor. (It had been pricey but even industrial carpeting had a limit to how many ketchup spills it could handle.) </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Present,” he said simply, dropping a shining-green wrapped box onto Sakuya’s lap. “From me and Omi.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya scratched at the edge of the tape with his fingernail, peeling it back so he could unwrap the paper safely and keep the wrapping paper. He never really repurposed it like he always promised himself he would, but he definitely had a fondness for collecting it. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pulled the paper away and gazed down at the thick album in his lap. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We went <em>full</em> scrapbook mode for almost two entire weeks,” Omi said, emerging from the kitchen as he was wiping his hands on his apron. “Yuki helped me a lot with the aesthetic choices and decorations.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yuki eyed his manicure with diva-ish disregard for the conversation. “You will notice every single strip of lace used in that scrapbook comes from my <em>private</em> collection. You’re so very welcome.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya flipped through the heavy pages, unable to look away from the gorgeous layouts and glossy prints. So many moments from the past year. Some of the professional posters, (look, his bust shot as Rick!), some candid ones the theatre took for themselves. All neatly arranged and framed with fabrics. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Homemade route, I see,” Banri said snakily as he swung his body over the back of the couch and crashed onto the cushion next to Sakuya. “What, you break the bank earlier this month, Rurikawa? Trying to cash in the tenderhearted coupon and save a few bucks?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shut it, Settsu, I’m economical and good at everything I do. Your jealousy is showing.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure as fuck not going to accept just tear-jerking shit on <em>my</em> birthday. Start saving up, pipsqueak.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>You</em> are a neanderthal.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ahh!” Kazunari sprung up from nowhere to look over Sakuya’s shoulder. “What the heck, this is super cute! Awww, Omimi and Yukkun made it so well, OMG. Aesthetic kings, let’s go!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “God, you ruin <em>everything</em>.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?! What did I do!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The Director clicked her tongue. “Yuki, be nice." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya suddenly interrupted them with a loud burst of laughter. “Thank you!" </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hugged the photo album to his chest, eyes still widened with shock like he couldn’t even comprehend what treasure he held. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” he repeated, this time with a strained voice. “Thank you so much.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Omi and Yuki glanced at each other, both surprised that the present had been received so well. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, any time,” Yuki said at last, looking away with a frown. Face pink like he didn’t know what response to give to such warmhearted gratitude. “Don’t get mushy about it, jeez. It’s embarrassing in front of other people.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t help it, Yuki,” Sakuya said softly, hugging the scrapbook closer with reverence. “I… didn’t even realize how much I wanted this until you gave it to me. Thank you. And you, Omi.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Omi ruffled his hair. “How about we make the next one together, too?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Suddenly, Banri elbowed Kazunari. “Pay up, I called it.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kazunari slipped him a little rolled up bill, not looking too upset he’d lost. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Should I even ask?” Director asked as she packed away the leftover cake that would inevitably end up Juza's midnight snack. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I bet Miyoshi ten bucks Sakuma would cry at his birthday party again this year. At this point, it’s almost impressive how he keeps up the tradition.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t help it,” Sakuya sniffled, wiping under his nose with a finger. “I just love all of you guys so much. It’s hard not to cry when I have so many amazing people around me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And, well, who could stay cool-cheeked after hearing something like that? Omi tugged his camera off the living room’s mantle and put himself in the corner to capture the whole group. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Say ‘cheese!’"</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>I’ll be very honest. Every day, even now, I’m learning bit by bit what a family means. And I’m sure in ten more years, I’ll be able to tell you so much more. But I’ve taken it upon myself to do as much diligent studying as I can for this long-term re-do of the assignment.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> I hope it’ll make you proud to know your student is working hard!</em>
  </span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Azuma poured Sakuya a near overflowing tall shot glass of sake before taking his seat on his side of the table once more. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s lighter and has a bit more of a floral palate,” he explained softly. “Smooth. Very popular for young women but I figured it would be the best for your first taste.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s… not my first,” Sakuya admitted as he took a tentative sip. It burned all the way down but not in a way that was awful. “It’s easier to admit it since I’m actually allowed to drink, I suppose." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t say?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He closed his eyes and hummed. “It was near my graduation from high school. This kid in my class invited a bunch of us to hang out in the park after hours and, well, one of them snuck a bottle of his dad’s. It tasted really bad and I just can just barely remember hobbling back to the dorm dizzy and worried I’d get sick.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Was this before I joined?” Azuma wondered, not being able to recall anything like that happening. He was sure he would have heard the fuss about Sakuya coming home tipsy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No,” Sakuya started laughing, “Tsuzuru was just the first person I ran into and he shoved me into my room to make sure no one found out. Said I’d made a dumb decision but didn’t deserve how dramatic the backlash would be. I’m really grateful about it, I’m pretty sure I would have been embarrassed for months if anyone else had seen me." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It certainly sounded like something Tsuzuru would do. Truly the first line of big brother MANKAI company had to brandish. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you for keeping the silly promise and letting your first drink as a twenty-year old be with me,” Azuma said, tilting his own glass in Sakuya’s direction. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya’s cheek twitched. Maybe it was the alcohol making it harder to hide the shy smile away. “No, thank <em>you</em>. I don’t… think I ever expected people to fight over me like that. Like it was some big sort of deal. It made me really happy.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I had never come so close to having to beat Sakyo away with a stick. He shows his adorable side for the most specific things.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya laughed giddily.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>It’s taken me quite a long time to find a place I could call home, and a longer time still to feel as though I’ve gained a family. But I have! And they’re a group of people I wouldn’t trade for anything. Every single one of them.</em></span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Matsukawa gave Sakuya a walkman and a set of tapes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I feel like if I try hard enough, I could convince you to like the same music I do,” he said in a very, very honest way. “Masumi is a lost cause but I entrust my prized walkman to you, Sakuya.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tell me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure these <em>weren’t</em> in style when you were my age,” Sakuya said as he held the very old piece of machinery in his hand. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Matsukawa guffawed with a slap to his knee. “You got me. I used to be a hipster.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…For some reason, I can totally see that.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m glad I fell out of it when I did, I don’t think I could stomach the kombucha the new generation’s chugging. But! The walkman and the songs I’ve collected are all great, I promise. You’ll see!” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya bowed his head down. “Thank you, Matsukawa. I’ll treat them with care, they already mean a lot to me.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Matsukawa didn’t get the chance often so he leapt at the opportunity when he saw it. “Look at you, Sakuya. Twenty! It feels like you were seventeen just yesterday.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just yesterday, for real. It was hard to believe that the young man that headed off to work every day and returned with a tired but genuine smile had once been a nervous and skittish teen. And yet, Sakuya continued with the oddly naive and beautiful optimism that others had let get beaten out of them. It was hard to believe that all that time had passed but also, it seemed only right. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ve been here the longest out of any of us,” Sakuya said fondly. “It might have only been a single night but we <em>were</em> the only two around before the Director arrived. It’s crazy to think the theatre’s gotten so big as it has. And that we’d make so many more friends.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Matsukawa chuckled and wiped his lens with the end of his tie. “I’d say you were the best audition we’d ever gotten still. Downright shame I was the only one who got to see it but, hey, a part of me is selfish enough to be glad! You’ve really made MANKAI able to continue standing proudly, Sakuya." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Three long years working together and all of them have been the best." </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Matsukawa stuck his hand out. “Hopes for three more?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya took it and gave it a hearty shake. “Let’s be optimistic and go for ten!"</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>A family is something that’s difficult to assign a singular definition. It always has been, but now the difficulty has taken a slightly different tone. Instead of struggling to find any term I felt worked, I know find it difficult to boil it all down to the bare necessities. I think it’s thanks to all of the swell people I’ve met!</em></span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya slipped Omi and Yuki’s scrapbook into a shelf he had cleared completely. It didn’t matter if he had to shove a couple of books and knickknacks into the little space his sock drawer had to offer; this scrapbook <em>deserved</em> a space all on its own. At least, it would be on its own until a second, third, maybe even a fourth, joined. Who knew? Heck, it could even be five or six. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought was something so tender and vulnerable, he tucked it deep inside of his heart. To hold close and keep his chest warm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He ran his finger down the spine of the album, smiling to himself. It hurt a little, but the kind of hurt that went hand in hand with nostalgia and turned it all into a melting bittersweetness. His parents had, he could recall, kept a lot of albums in their home. They displayed them all proudly in the giant glass case probably meant for china instead.  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakuya, to this day, regretted not having fought to keep those albums more than anything. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This shelf on its own, with just the one scrapbook, looked nothing like his parents’ collection of photos. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But one day, perhaps it would grow to be similar. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All Sakuya had to do was keep living.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> I’m excited to continue finding out more and more of what a family means.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Sincerely,</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <em> Your student Sakuya Sakuma</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Someone knocked on his door. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He turned around in his chair, placing the pen down on the table. “Yeah?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masumi stuck his head in. “Tsuzuru’s done. And conscious this time. The rest of us wanna do a late read-through, you up for it?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mhm! I’ll be right there.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tucked the note into his drawer and hurried to catch up with the rest of his troupe. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy birthday to the character with the most Son energy of all time</p></blockquote></div></div>
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